


A Moment of Peace

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Series: The Lady Herald and Her Lion [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Dragon Age Quest: Happier Times, F/M, Fanart, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: Cullen decides to take Inquisitor Trevelyan on a small trip to get her away from the bustle of Skyhold for a while. Unfortunately, things don't quite go as planned...





	A Moment of Peace

It was two weeks after the events of Halamshiral, and Verana still had difficulty believing half of the things that had transpired there. Because of her actions at the Winter Palace, Orlais was now completely enamored of the Inquisition, clamoring to bring the fight to Corypheus, and even offering their newly-graduated Chevaliers to support the cause. Most enamored, however, seemed to be various young noble ladies who had been guests at the ball, as, according to Josephine, more than a few letters of diplomatic inquiry had arrived to pry information regarding Cullen’s bloodline out of the ambassador…

She chuckled to herself as she recalled the war table meeting during which Josephine had dropped that little tidbit, and Leliana had eagerly snatched it up to serve her own purposes. The look on Cullen’s face – a splendid combination of revulsion, incredulity, and mortification – was priceless.

Verana drummed her fingers on the surface her desk where she sat in her quarters, holding her quill aloft with her other hand and oblivious to the fact that ink was dripping from the tip onto of a fresh piece of parchment, marring it with a steadily-growing black blob. A mountain of books and papers was piled around her, but she payed attention to none of it as memories of that evening resurfaced in her mind, her blue-violet eyes distant.

They weren’t the only ones enamored with him.

A faint smile played across her lips as she remembered that sweet kiss they had stolen in the shadows, away from the prying eyes of the court scandalmongers. It had been a fulfilment of something she had desired to do for a very, very long time; she just had not realized it until the moment came upon her. And it pleased her to no end that he had seemed to enjoy it as much as she…

Since then, however, they had little opportunity to show their affection for each other aside from warm half-smiles or the gentle brush of gloved hands when passing one another in Skyhold’s halls. There was enough gossip that had sprung from their dance at the Winter Palace alone; they did not need to stoke the flames, and both of them knew it.

Sighing, she glanced down and finally saw the spreading ink blob. With a frown of annoyance, she replaced the quill in its well and crumpled the ruined page in both hands, tossing it aside and watching it bounce against a crooked stack of volumes on the corner of the desk. Then, unable to tolerate the mess any longer, she closed the open books, straightened the stacks, returned the volumes she had no intention of reading to the shelves, and filed away the notes she had taken.

Just when she had cleared away a clean spot on the desk, there was a flap of wings and a raucous caw as one of Leliana’s ravens filled the space. She was about to scold the noisy thing when she glimpsed the singular white feather on its broad chest that marked it as Cullen’s. It had dropped its message on her desk when it landed, but it seemed to want to stay there, and it blinked at her with an almost expectant look in its shining – and unnervingly intelligent – black eyes.

Reaching for the message, Verana remarked quietly, “Well, let’s see what you’ve got here.” As she took it in hand, the raven danced back a bit on the slick surface of the desk with another loud caw and ruffled its feathers before beginning to vainly preen at its wings.

Breaking the seal, Verana unrolled the small piece of parchment and began to read.

_Inquisitor,_

_I’ve found myself with more than a bit of free time on my hands as of late. If you have no prior commitments to fulfill in the next day or so, there is a location in the Hinterlands I know of that I would very much like to show to you. Do you, perchance, have the time and the inclination to join me on a small trip?_

_Cullen_

Grinning to herself, Verana took the quill from its well and scrawled a reply below his signature.

_I have time now. Give me a bit to gather my things and I will meet you at the stables within the hour._

Blowing on the parchment to dry it, she then rolled the message back up and proffered it to the raven. It blinked at her, then snatched up the paper in its sharp beak and darted out of her window with a final noisy flap of its wings. She put her hands on her hips and watched as it soared towards the watchtower; then, smiling to herself, she moved to her wardrobe to put on her armor.

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Verana’s ensemble jingled a bit as she descended the stairs and entered the main hall of Skyhold. Harritt’s newest work, an outfit appropriate for a battlemage, fit her remarkably well – a shirt of black velveteen; a coat and breeches of dark violet-dyed dragonling scales; indigo ram leather boots and gloves, reinforced with a Nevarrite breastplate, gauntlets, and greaves; and a dark blue silk sash topping it all off at her waist. From her belt hung a great many vials and pouches, all containing supplies and potions of various beneficial sorts, as well as the hilt of her Spirit Blade. On her back was her dragon-headed lightning staff, which she had just recently enchanted with a Cleansing Rune, courtesy the masterful aid of Arcanist Dagna.

She nodded politely at the dignitaries gathered in the hall as she passed them, and they responded with various greetings in kind. All the while, she sported a confident smile and a spring in her step, and it wasn’t because Harritt had kept her favorite colors in mind when crafting her latest armor. The eagerness that filled her heart grew as she emerged in the midmorning sun and descended the keep stairs, all the while wondering where exactly it was Cullen wanted to take her and why. A small part of her didn’t even care, merely thankful for the chance to be able to spend time with him.

As she made her way across the half-cobbled courtyard, she saw him already at the stables tacking his mount – a blood bay Amaranthine Charger with an imposing build. Dennet caught the Inquisitor’s eye as she approached and wordlessly stood from his stool to begin tacking her own smaller Free Marches Ranger, knowing without being told that Verana would be going for a ride, too. The sturdy little mare he began to tend to was a dull white-socked blue roan with a sweet disposition, and Verana had fallen in love with her as soon as she purchased her, not long after arriving at Skyhold.

Once she reached the stables, Verana leaned against the wooden frame of the bay’s stall, peered in, and remarked, “Impressive horse you have there, Commander.”

Cullen looked up and met her eyes with a warm smile, then glanced to his mount and patted the stallion’s thick, arched neck, “He’s a handful, that’s for sure.”

The bay’s head bobbed up and down as if in affirmation, and the horse then peered sideways at Verana with a large, mahogany eye, his convex profile handsomely chiseled. Verana chuckled at the stallion’s behavior and replied, “He looks it. My horse is a child’s pony in comparison.”

“The roan, right?”

“That’s her,” Verana nodded, glancing back towards where Dennet was still busy tacking the mare in question, “I’ve taken to calling her Grace.”

Cullen tightened the girth of the saddle and adjusted a few straps, “This is Sentinel. Stands guard like a watchdog and doesn’t let anything escape his notice. Couldn’t have asked for a better warhorse.”

Verana smiled and merely watched the horse as Cullen finished his work, noting the white snip on Sentinel’s muzzle and the blue-black color of his short-trimmed mane. He was certainly a handsome beast, and he seemed to be fully aware of it, judging from his almost haughty demeanor…

“She’s ready, Inquisitor,” Dennet’s voice suddenly came from behind as he tapped Verana on the shoulder and handed her Grace’s reins.

“Just in time,” Cullen remarked, giving Sentinel’s bridle one last check before leading him out of his stall. The height difference between the two horses was at least two hands, and Verana almost felt dwarfed next to the charger’s muscular bulk. Grace, however, did not seem the least bit impressed, huffing into Verana’s loose, raven-black waves with an air of disdain.

As Verana put her foot in the stirrup and swung herself into Grace’s saddle, she asked, “So, how long will we be gone? And where exactly are we going?”

“No more than a week,” Cullen replied reassuringly, mounting Sentinel beside her, and it was then Verana noticed he had lashed his shield and helm to the cantle. As he adjusted his seat, he cast her mischievous smirk and added, “You’ll see. It’s actually not that far from Haven.”

“All right,” Verana replied with her own answering smirk, “So long as they don’t send a search party when they discover both of us gone.”

He chuckled, “I’ve let Cassandra know we’re going to be traveling, and she’s passing word to Leliana and Josephine, so they won’t expect us back before next week.”

Verana nodded, “Well, then. I guess we’re set. Lead on, Commander.”

Cullen spurred Sentinel into a trot and Verana clicked her tongue, urging Grace to follow after. There were quite a few head turns as the two of them clattered across the courtyard and through Skyhold’s gates…the Inquisitor and her Commander, off on some miniature adventure. Verana could only imagine what they were thinking, and a large part of her didn’t care.

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A day after setting out, they came across the recently-completed memorial for Haven, funded by the Marquis DuRellion but built with the aid of Inquisition soldiers. As both of them paid their respects to the fallen, Verana marveled at the reach and influence of the Inquisition. It was one thing to give orders and sign papers at Skyhold. It was quite another to see the results of those orders in person and realize that signatures do have power. Hers in particular.

Once they continued on for three more days, navigating their way down the winding roads of the Frostbacks and stopping at Inquisition camps along the way to sleep and eat, Verana was conscious of the silence that had settled between them as they rode along. It was not a tense silence, but rather a contented one, neither of them needing to say anything to enjoy each other’s presence. It was a good week for an extended ride into the countryside, clear and warmer than usual, the breeze soft and fresh as it rustled the pines and firs at dawn. In such an idyllic setting, it was easy to forget that there was a monstrous force at work trying to destroy it all…

“It’s been too long since I’ve been on a trip like this,” Cullen remarked at last, after they had set out the morning of the fourth day. “It’s good to get out away from the bustle of Skyhold for a while.” He glanced sideways at her, “Though, come to think of it, you probably get enough of this sort of thing on your journeys, don’t you?”

She laughed lightly, “None of my travels are this enjoyable. Or peaceful. If it’s not bandits, it’s Venatori, giants, dragons…”

He chuckled and replied, “Hopefully, there’s none of that where I’m taking you.” Glancing up at the sky to spot the position of the sun, he added, “Speaking of our destination, I think we need to speed things up a bit,” he gave her a mischievous grin, “What do you say?”

Verana raised a brow and tossed a grin of her own right back at him, “I say lead on, Commander.”

“Try not to get left behind,” he winked, and then kicked his heels into Sentinel’s flanks with a “ _Tss-_ hyah!”

The blood bay rocketed forward, as if Cullen had been holding him back for the entirety of their ride thus far. Verana spurred Grace after him, the blue roan mare slower to start but gaining speed with every stride. Within a few moments, both were plunging down the road at a full gallop, Verana slightly behind and beside the Commander. Both riders leaned over their horses’ necks as the heads of their steeds pumped up and down, the animals’ great puffs of breath and pounding of hooves in the dirt filling their ears underneath the rush of the wind. Verana took note of Cullen’s steadiness in the stirrups and smiled to herself – he was a good rider…

So as not to tire the horses too quickly, they slowed to a canter after a bit, and then to a trot as they began to descend fully out of the mountains and into the sunny foothills of the Hinterlands. The sight of ground without snow was welcoming, and Verana took a deep breath of the clear air, admiring the view that sprawled to the east, Redcliffe a mere grey dot in the distance.

After leading her off-road for an hour, working their way south-southeast, Cullen and Verana last emerged in a clearing, where a mist-shrouded lake lay peacefully in the midst of the forest. Cullen pulled Sentinel to a halt and slid out of the saddle, taking a few steps and looking around before turning about and gesturing with open arms, “Well, here we are.”

Curious, Verana squinted at the lake and half-smiled, dismounting and tethering both horses loosely to the nearest sapling trunk. She then moved to stand beside Cullen and took in the scene silently for a few moments; the placid lake was surrounded by high bushes and very old trees, their roots gnarled and moss-covered. Lily-pads covered the perimeter of the water, and dragonflies flitted back and forth across it like buzzing jewels. At last, she replied with a quiet reverence, “It’s…quite serene.”

“Yes. Almost unchanged since the last time I was here.”

He meandered slowly around the edge of the lake to a small wooden pier, and she followed behind him at a slight distance, looking around at the thick canopy of the trees and listening to the birds and insects that made their home in this tranquil setting. After a few moments, curiosity got the best of her, and she asked, “And when was that?”

He stepped onto the pier and leaned against one of the wooden posts, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before replying, “The day I left for Templar training.” He looked down at the water, paused, and added, “You heard the herald at the Winter Palace mention I was from Honnleath? This lake is not far from there…from where I was born and raised. I used to come here to get away from my siblings.”

Verana chuckled, “I know the need, myself.”

A smile tugged at his lips, even as his eyes were distant, “My brother caught up to me that day…gave me something to take with me, even though I wasn’t supposed to bring anything but the clothes on my back.” He reached into a pocket and produced something small and shining, “I kept it ever since.”

Verana cocked her head, “What is it?”

“A coin,” he replied, his smile widening as he turned it over in his hand, “One that my brother claimed was lucky. Whether or not it really is, I don’t know, but…” He let it rest in his gloved palm for a moment before extending it towards her, “I’d…like you to have it.”

She hesitated, tentatively picking up the coin from where it lay against the taut dark leather of his palm. It was smooth and well-worn, as if it had been used like a worry token. The face of Andraste was also a little off-center, where the press had hit at slightly the wrong angle during minting. Verana’s own lips pulled into a gentle smile as she appreciated the gesture – both his thoughtfulness and his wish to gift her with something with such sentimental value.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and added, “You put yourself in danger so much…I thought that if anyone needs luck, it’s you.”

After he said these words, however, something Varric told her came to mind. She looked thoughtful, rubbing the surface of the coin with her thumb as she replied, “Cullen…I’ve managed to survive the explosion at the Conclave, the Fade, a trebuchet-induced avalanche, and a blizzard, to name but a few things that’s nearly killed me in the last few months. I’d like to think I’m being watched. You, on the other hand,” she paused, taking his hand and pressing the coin back into it, curling his fingers over it with her own, and meeting his eyes, “Please…keep it. I don’t want your luck to run out.”

She hoped he wouldn’t be insulted by her refusal – hoped that he would understand the way she felt about it, which, despite her slightly humorous way of putting it, was quite seriously; she didn’t want him to sacrifice what luck he had when she seemed to have plenty of her own already. She searched his face, expecting a frown or some sign of disapproval, but to her surprise, he gave her that familiar and understanding smirk, “Well, when you put it that way…” he tucked the coin back into his pocket and cupped her cheek, “Neither do I…not when things are just starting to turn out good for me.”

Her cheeks reddened as he bent and kissed her, and she returned the kiss with fervor, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him tighter against her. With no need to worry about anyone watching them, they let themselves indulge in a longer one than their first at the Winter Palace, though it was just as tentatively gentle and sweet. For a few wonderful moments, the entire world slipped away, and it was just the two of them.

At last, she broke it off, twining her gloved fingers in the fur of his collar as they merely held each other for the longest time, not wanting to let one another go. She rested her head on his breastplate, indulging in the feeling of not being alone, of being held by someone who genuinely cared about her, and relishing the presence of the man she truly adored. She tried to remember when that adoration had started, but it was difficult to pinpoint. He had been one of only two people who had not initially treated her with hostility when she fell out of the Fade near Haven. She had been drawn to him like a moth to flame ever since they first met in Haven’s chantry, and he had given her the first of many warm smiles...

Eventually, he eased down to sit on the pier, leaning against the post with his legs stretched out before him, and she went down with him, sitting with her knees up beside him. She kept one arm looped sideways around his neck and leaned on shoulder as he adjusted his hold around her waist with his right arm, grasping her free hand with his left. They remained there, unspeaking, for at least a half hour, enjoying the quiet of the forest and the stillness of the area, letting the stress of managing the Inquisition slowly slip away and melt into the silence around them.

“You…said you had siblings, too? You’ve never mentioned them before, have you?” Cullen finally spoke, glancing sideways at her.

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before now, no. But yes, I do,” Verana replied, “I’m the youngest of five. My eldest sibling is my brother Roland, the next eldest, Donovan, then my sisters Jocelyn and Dawn.”

He smirked, “Any other mages amongst you besides yourself?”

She grinned and nodded, “Oh yes, Dawn. She was sent off to the Circle at Ansburg while I stayed at Ostwick. She’s…a very headstrong person,” Verana added, “Never liked Ostwick much…or our family’s politics. I have no doubt she did not mind being sent away.” She frowned, “I don’t know what happened to her after the Circles rebelled. I don’t think she would have been roped into the ranks of the rebel mages…” she trailed, her brow furrowing, “Maybe she got in a larger court somewhere, or perhaps she ran into Donovan on her way back home. He’s a Templar,” she sighed, “sent to Markham, last I heard. Maker, if he yet lives, I hope he hasn’t gotten into that red lyrium.” She shook her head, “Every time I see one of those monsters, I pray it isn’t him.”

After a few moments of pushing back memories of Therinfal Redoubt and the walking crystal behemoths, she asked, “Have you seen one of them? The Red Templars, I mean?”

“Other than the first? Meredith?” he looked askance at her, “No. But she didn’t consume it, though, so the ultimate effect on her body was different than what happens to the others...or so I’ve been told. I _have_ seen detailed reports, even sketches from the scouts…but never one in person.”

She shuddered, “Pray that you never do, Cullen. It is the stuff of nightmares. Horrible… _horrible_ …”

She buried her face in the soft fur of Cullen’s collar, and he turned to rest his chin atop her head, “There are Templars who have avoided the red lyrium amidst all of this chaos, and mages who have managed to dodge the Venatori and the overzealous enforcers of the Chantry, as you well know. If your siblings are as resourceful as you are, I am certain they are alive and well.”

“I hope,” her voice was muffled, “Though I didn’t have the chance to live with them very long, they’re still my family.”

“I’m curious...how old were you when you were sent off to the Circle?”

She sighed again and looked up at him, “Seven.”

His brows rose, but he nodded, “There were children that young at Kinloch.”

She studied his face, noticing the golden-orange light of the late-afternoon sun limning his hair, “Even in Ostwick, I…heard tales about what happened there. It’s…where you were, originally, isn’t it? There’s talk about it still, sometimes, and it’s difficult to separate fact from fiction.”

He was silent for several long moments before she saw him swallow heavily, and he glanced away as he answered, “Yes, I was there. One of a handful of survivors...mages and Templars both. It was an utter disaster, born of twisted Ferelden politics and mage pride. So many of my friends died unspeakable deaths…and I was tortured by demons for what seemed like an eternity while everyone I knew fell around me, powerless to stop any of it.”

Her fingers absentmindedly played in the fur of his collar while she carefully thought about her next question. “How did you survive?” She finally asked quietly.

He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head, “Maker’s breath, I don’t even know. So many of my memories are mixed with the demonic illusions to which I was subjected.” He paused before adding, “I was rescued by the Queen…back when she was one of only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. She’d come to the tower looking for aid and ended up aiding _us_ instead. If it hadn’t been for her,” he closed his eyes, “I don’t know how much longer I would have lived without going utterly mad…or falling to possession.”

She patted his chest and smiled slightly, “Perhaps that coin was lucky after all.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured. After a few moments of silence, he added in a hushed tone, “That night changed me, Verana. I trusted no mage, believed that none were even human. I was convinced that each and every mage was just a demonic tool yet to be used, a potential weapon against the unsuspecting populace. My Knight-Commander at the time, Greagoir, sent me away from the tower to let me distance myself from the place where I had endured such horrors, probably hoping the separation would change my mind. It didn’t.”

Verana found his hand and squeezed it, “Cullen, I would think that almost anyone who’d been through the same thing you did would have thought the same way, for a very long time.”

He shook his head, “Logic would have eventually told me that not all mages were responsible for what happened at Kinloch Hold, and yet I thought of all mages as if they were, as if they could and would make it happen again. It took me too long to realize that was what I had made myself believe.” He paused before continuing, “I eventually found myself transferred to Kirkwall, where my beliefs were only fostered by Knight-Commander Meredith, who had made it her personal mission to stamp out every practitioner of blood magic in the city. After a few years, when things were not progressing to her satisfaction, she started ordering the Rite of Tranquility on every mage she _suspected_ of performing blood magic, with no solid proof of any such deed being done, which soon became almost every mage in the Gallows.”

“But I heard you stood up to her, with Hawke and her brother,” Verana remarked.

“I…did. Somehow, despite all that had happened to me, despite my philosophy about mages, I knew what she was doing was wrong…and on a deep, nearly subconscious level, I feared I was following her quickly down that same tyrannical path. Meredith’s behavior…it shook me. I…didn’t want that. I didn’t want myself to _become_ that. I _knew_ what a Templar was supposed to be, and Meredith wasn’t it, I was certain of it. Mages may have been volatile, unpredictable, with the potential for destruction on a monumental scale, but it was not our place to imprison and make Tranquil out of those who had yet to show any signs of corruption – that I firmly believed as well.”

He sighed, “So I put myself between her and the Champion. Yes, a mage. Stood beside Hawke and her brother against what I knew then was a completely maddened Meredith. And after all was said and done, I supported Hawke in her effort to become Viscountess – put a mage on the throne of Kirkwall. I suppose you could say it took seeing just how far Meredith had gone to make me rethink…everything. Everything I had come to believe.”

Verana was silent for a very long time, absorbing his confession and mulling over everything he had said. Finally, she met his gaze and held it as she replied, “Cullen, the man you became after what happened at Kinloch…wasn’t what you were – what you _are_ – deep down. After that night, you were wounded…deeply so. Understandably so. You blamed those whom you knew were capable of creating such wounds, and you sought solace in placing that blame. You saw confirmation that what the Chantry said about mages was true, and you probably thought Meredith’s words and actions were affirmation that you had come to the right conclusion at last, conquering young naiveté. But then you saw her transform…morph into something that corrupted the definition of a Templar and try to twist you in her direction, and your own sense of right – your true self – finally rose up in defiance.” She paused, looking out over the glassy water of the lake before glancing back at him, “From what you say and from what I know of you now, I don’t think you changed at all…I think, after the fall of the Circle, you lost the sense of who you were, latching on to what you thought you were supposed to think and feel for stability. And in Kirkwall, I think you found yourself again.”

He chuckled, “You make it sound so heroic.”

She squeezed his hand again, “It takes a very brave, very strong person to confront what you _know_ is wrong but what the world around you has convinced themselves is right. In standing up to Meredith’s madness, you faced your suspicions and your fears head on and found truth in your heart, and despite everything you’d been through, you refused to let your harrowing experiences drive your decisions any longer. That _is_ heroic, Cullen.”

Warmth filled his amber eyes as he smiled down at her, “It is…heartening…to hear you say that.”

He was silent for a while, but then asked, “So…I hope your tenure at your Circle was not quite so traumatic.”

She chuckled, “No, thank the Maker. It was actually rather boring. I don’t know if it was because I was the Bann’s daughter or because I had a brother in the Templars – perhaps both – but most troublemakers left me alone. I _did_ hear about others, though,” she paused, frowning, “Some awful tales went around…nothing provable, of course. But the rumors kept us all on edge for a while.” Sighing, she went silent for a few moments before adding, “No, the most excitement we ever had was when the Circles finally broke. Then…everything I knew fell apart.”

This time, it was he who squeezed her hand in a gesture of comfort, “How did you get out of that situation?”

“It’s…fuzzy,” Verana frowned, “When the rebel mages struck, I was lumped in with them…the Templars targeted me just like they did all of the rest at that point. It was utter chaos…apprentices and mages turning against the Senior Enchanters, the Templars trying to subdue all of us...eventually, I decided to take my chances just running. Some of my friends ran with me. Only a handful of us made it beyond the tower walls, but once we did, we chose to try and make it on our own. We found some refugee mages from Markham, and we stuck together in Hasmal under the protection of Knight-Commander Brycen until we heard about the Conclave. Some of the upper-level mages, myself included, thought it best to answer the summons of the Divine to try and end the madness. And…you know the rest.”

“So,” he looked at her curiously, “you actually support the concept of the Circles?”

“I do,” she replied without hesitation, “Though not without reform. I believe that the Circles are the best way for mages to exist peacefully with common folk, but I think travel and frequent contact outside of them should be allowed, particularly for those who have proven themselves by achieving full magehood. I also think that the Templars should undergo reform to revert back to what they were intended to be to start with – _protectors_ : guardians of both the common people _and_ mages from the demons of the Fade…not full-time jailors of arcane practitioners, hunters of apostates, or lapdogs of the Chantry.” She shook her head and added, “I know it’s idealistic, but with stricter regulations and proper oversight, I think it’s possible. Perhaps even without the use of lyrium.”

“That would take a lot of work,” Cullen observed, “but with people like Barris and Brycen, maybe it can become reality.”

“And if the new Divine sees it as the best path to take,” Verana added, rubbing her left hand with a slightly annoyed expression as she felt an itching in her palm.

“Which could be years away,” he remarked quietly.

“And until then,” she rubbed her palm more vigorously as the itch seemed to intensify rather than ease, “We have Corypheus to worry about. Now that the war has been ended and we have the Templars as allies, we can wait about reinstating the Circles and promoting reform until the threat to Thedas is eliminated.”

“Indeed…none of that even matters so long as that damned Magister is trying to destroy us all,” he glanced down and frowned, “Are you-?”

His question was halted midsentence when that familiar and dreaded _pop_ of magic lit up her Anchor hand like a beacon, the pale green light illuminating their faces in an eerie glow. Their eyes met, both reflecting horror.

“What’s going on?” Cullen asked as they both jumped to their feet.

“A Fade rift,” Verana breathed, her violet eyes searching the wilderness for the telltale flicker of the atmosphere and the nebula of green that marked a tear in the Veil, “Close, very close. Get your shield and helm, hurry!”

He wordlessly dashed to Sentinel’s side, jamming his helmet onto his head and slipping his shield over his arm. Meanwhile, Verana took her staff in one hand and her Spirit Blade hilt in the other, wondering how in Andraste’s name the rift had gone unnoticed all this time…

…unless _she_ had caused it.

And then, she saw it, the rift shimmering above the lake like a piece of translucent green ribbon, the shoreline bubbling with Fade energy as the denizens on the other side of the Veil began clawing their way through…

“There’s going to be demons!” she shouted in warning, gathering a wave of dispelling magic and flinging it with her staff at the bubble nearest Cullen...only a few feet away from him. The bubble of Fade energy dissipated with a hiss as he drew his sword, the blade ringing from its sheath and shimmering in the early twilight; he had just managed to return to her side when another bubble burst…and from it sprang a Terror demon, leaping at her with lightning speed, unhinged jaws agape and dagger-like claws ready to strike.

Its head met Cullen’s shield with a _bang_ as he positioned himself between Verana and the demon, but it managed to latch onto it with all four limbs. Screeching in the Commander’s face in response, it clawed at his helm with clacking scratches as its talons met Silverite. Cullen skewered it through the side with his sword and tried to throw it off, but to no avail. It was then that Verana’s electric blue Spirit Blade came out of nowhere, the ghostly edge slicing clean through the demon’s neck.

As its bloodied form was sucked back into the Fade rift, another Terror demon leaped out of nowhere, erupting from the ground in front of her and pouncing, throwing her backwards to the ground and pinning her arms and legs as it shrieked skyward. Its cry was cut short, however, as half the length of Cullen’s blade erupted through its chest, disappearing and then whistling as it arced sideways in a silver blur and removed its head from its shoulders.

A streak of white then flew across the lake and struck Cullen in the back, sending him stumbling forward with a gasp as magical frost creeped over his armor like icy vines. Verana glimpsed the attacker – a wraith hovering on the far shore – and snarled; rolling to her feet, she encased Cullen in a glimmering magical barrier, which successfully stopped the wraith’s next attacks, and then answered with her own. Spreading her arms wide, she unleashed a barrage of lightning-charged missiles that sought out the wraith through the mist, streaking over the water and causing the wraith’s form to flicker before winking out of existence.

Three more wraiths hovered nearby, augmented by a Despair demon that lurked behind a boulder. Snarling, Verana shouted to Cullen, “Draw their fire…the barrier will hold!” Then, wading partially into the water, she raised her Anchor hand and latched on to the rift with a rope of Fade energy that launched from her palm, charging the Veil tear with power in hopes of weakening the remaining wraths; all the while, Cullen sidestepped along the shoreline with his shield raised and sword ready, using the barrier Verana had cast upon him to absorb the magic and direct their attacks away from her.

After a few moments – moments which felt agonizingly long – the rift finally responded with a crackling burst of energy, throwing Verana slightly backwards as her Anchor disconnected. Seeing the remaining demons flicker and reel, she swirled her staff in a horizontal half-circle and slung an arc of lightning across the lake, smirking in satisfaction as it bounced from one wraith to the other and back again, dissolving all three ghostly wraiths in a storm of crackling energy. The weakened Despair demon was nearly completely immolated by the burst of fire she flung from her staff, then torn to shreds when her lightning bolt followed suit, rending its black hooded form to smoking tatters.

The smirk quickly faded, however, once the rift expanded, the ground around her cracking open in bursts of alien emerald flame as the tear in the Veil responded to the presence of the Anchor. She danced around the bursts as they appeared, careful not to let them open under her feet. “It’s not over!” she called out, not taking her eyes off the ground as she anticipated each subsequent eruption of Fade energy on the shore, “More are coming! Be ready!”

Cullen didn’t answer, his voice choked by adrenaline and focus. The Fade rift and the demons that forced their way through the Veil awoke emotions within him that he had buried deep inside…made him at once shudder and stiffen in anticipation of what was to come. Even as his heart pounded in his ears and his breath resonated in unsteady pants inside his helm, every step Verana made on the pebbled shoreline and every jingle of her armor was astonishingly loud. Everything around him appeared sharper, brighter…his skin prickling with energy and the hairs standing up on the nape of his neck…

In a blinding flash, two gargantuan figures, pale green silhouettes, began to materialize in bubbles of energy on the shoreline, one near Verana and the other near him. As a third figure flickered on the far side, Verana dispelled it, but was unable to direct her magic to the other two before they emerged from the Veil, roaring a challenge as they broke through.

Pride demons.

_Oh, no…oh, damn…oh, damn, damn, damn…_

Now she was worried. This was a situation that could turn deadly very quickly. _One_ Pride demon was a handful for four, that she knew, but two on two?

The Pride demons cackled with delight upon seeing two mortals with which to play; their colossal forms stretched to their full height, and they took their time closing the distance between themselves and their prey, enjoying the terror that would build in their hearts at the demons’ approach...

Thinking quickly, Verana renewed the shimmering barrier around Cullen before spinning around towards the Pride demon approaching her with predatory strides. Throwing her Anchor hand in front of her, she _pulled_ at the side of the rift, fingers raking through the air as she forcefully tore the rift wider in the demon’s direction. She could feel the energy being sapped from her with every second she used the Anchor for this, and at last she could open the tear no wider. Gasping for breath, she dropped to one knee but tightened her grip around her blade hilt and staff, watching as the Anchor’s magic did its work. The Pride demon was dragged forcefully backwards towards the rift, its claws digging into the sand and pebbles as it tried to resist the magnetic power, but to no avail. As it was dragged into the water, Verana built a charge of electricity and sent it flying towards the lake; the lightning danced across the surface upon impact and formed a brilliant, scintillating cage around the weakened demon…

At last sparing a glance towards Cullen, her heart nearly stopped.

While Verana had been occupied with trying to banish her opponent, the Commander was faced with his own formidable foe. It made an attempt to grab at him, but he dodged, rolling to the side and landing a riposte attack on the demon’s forearm, the blade slicing neatly through muscle and sinew. In retaliation, the demon’s other fist soared at him, slamming into his shield and shoving him backwards, his heels digging up soil from the force of the impact. Verana’s barrier quickly dissolved in a shower of sparks…

…and what happened next, he had not prepared for nor had any resistance to anymore.

A whip of lightning burst from the demon’s claws and lashed right into Cullen, sending electricity wracking through the Commander’s body. Unspeakable agony seized his limbs and his heart as his whole form convulsed violently. Unable to defend himself, Cullen was quickly snatched up by the demon and tossed like a ragdoll against the nearest tree – a massive oak. He landed with a clatter and slid down the trunk, nearly losing his sword and shield in the process.

That was that moment Verana turned and saw him stagger towards the demon again, blade vibrating in his grip.

“ _CULLEN!”_ she shrieked, glancing back and forth between the weakened demon – the one now struggling to get out of the water – and the one bearing down on the Commander. Praying to the Maker, she attempted to disrupt the rift again, pouring the power of the Anchor into it. The rope of energy latched on and grew steadily, steadily…

The demon’s arms raised high…

 _Come on, come on_ …

The giant limbs descended towards Cullen’s weakly-raised shield…

 _“Work, damn you!”_ she screamed.

_BANG!_

The rift burst with energy again, the demon in the water dissipating with a roar and the one confronting Cullen dropping to its knees. Verana wasted no time, sprinting towards it with lightning speed, Spirit Blade hilt poised and charging with power.

Cullen neither heard her cry nor saw her approach. His hearing muffled, his vision blurred, pain consumed him, and flashes of memory swam before his eyes. The smell that filled the air, the sensations that surrounded him… _pressed_ down on him…it was just like the Circle. An unexpected strength bubbled from deep within, fueled by unbridled fury and borderline panic. With a roaring cry, he leaped upon the demon as it bent forward in agony, slicing into its shoulder, its neck, and then burying the blade up to its hilt in the flesh of its chest, twisting…

Verana struck with the Spirit Blade, blind to all else. Even with the wounds it sustained from Cullen’s sword, the demon was able to retaliate once it tasted the electric-blue edge. It swung around and backhanded her, sending her flying into the lake with a resounding _splash_. Her breath was stolen from her as she felt her ribs crack with the power of the blow, despite the breastplate she wore beneath her coat, and she gasped for air as she floundered in the shallows. The force of the demon’s movement also pulled Cullen’s blade from its chest, but allowed the Commander to strike again and again with unrelenting fury. Whilst it was occupied with the Commander’s merciless storm of slashes, Verana scrambled from the water with a grunt of pain and summoned another immolating burst, engulfing the Pride demon in fire and finally rending its body too much for it to remain on this side of the Veil.

Their victory won at last, Verana immediately turned to the rift and let the Anchor do its work, raising her hand high and pouring energy into the tear until, grasping hold of the rope of green magic, she snatched the rift closed with an echoing _crack_ of power. The telltale ribbons of Fade material showered the middle of the lake with random _plops_ , and then, all was still. No sign of the rift remained.

Verana spun back around to check on Cullen…and was met nose-to-helm with him. Before she could say anything, however, his hand was around her throat, his shield discarded in the dirt, and her eyes went wide as saucers as she gasped, “ _Cullen! Wha-!_ ” Her voice was choked off before she could finish the phrase, and she grabbed desperately at his hand, dropping her staff and Spirit Blade hilt to the ground as shock and fright filled her.

Cullen didn’t hear her. Didn’t see her. Didn’t even see the lake around them. Instead, he saw Kinloch hold and the Desire demon that had tortured him within…the sneering face and violet eyes…

Violet eyes.

 _Verana_.

Reality crashed down on him as if a bucket of water had been splashed over his head, the memory instantly banished from his sight. Once he realized who he had grasped in a chokehold, he released her as if she had scalded him, his poised sword dropping like a stone to the earth. Horror at his actions consumed him and made his stomach knot, the adrenaline drained from his limbs, and the seriousness of the damage to his battered body caught up to him in a debilitating wave – all of it happening almost at once. He staggered backwards and then his knees gave way; Verana instantly rushed forward, catching him under his arms and easing him to the ground, “ _Cullen?!_ What in the…hold on. Hold on…”

She snatched the helm from his head and tossed it aside, noticing the sickly pallor of his face, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes glazed over. She ignored the protest of her own cracked ribs, biting her lip and grunting as she went onto her knees and bent over him, taking a healing potion from her belt and popping out the cork with her teeth.

“Verana…” his voice came out in a weak whisper, halting from the pain, “I’m…so sorry…”

“Hush,” she ordered, her voice firm, though inside, her mind was awhirl with indiscernible fragments of thought and indescribable waves of emotion. Yet she suppressed her brain’s attempt to find order in everything that had occurred in the last minutes and instead focused on keeping him alive…nothing else mattered.

She cradled his head with one hand and put the bottle to his lips with the other, “Drink this…” she tilted it and steadily poured the contents into his mouth as she murmured, “Come on…that’s it…I’ve got you…”

His eyes squeezed shut with effort and discomfort, yet he slowly swallowed the potion down, coughing after the last had drained out of the bottle. Each cough tore through him like a knife, and his limbs went rigid before suddenly going limp, his subsequent groan fading to a sigh as his eyelids slid closed.

“Cullen? Cullen, don’t you dare die on me…” fright of another sort seized her heart, and she winced as she leaned closer, stroking his face, “Cullen…” She tore off one damp gauntlet and pressed her fingers to his throat…

“Cullen?”

After an agonizing few seconds of terrifying nothingness, she at last felt his pulse throbbing under her fingertips, his breath coming in and out in shallow but steady puffs. A sigh of relief escaped her lips; his body had merely forced him into unconsciousness as the potion did its work, succumbing to exhaustion in order to begin recovery.

It was only then that she noticed how much damage he had taken on the surface; there was no telling how much he had taken internally, but if the way he looked was any indicator, it was quite a bit. There were blackened burn marks on the leather of his armor, where the lightning whip of the Pride demon had taken hold. The side of his breastplate was crunched inwards where the demon’s massive hand had grasped him. She couldn’t tell what had been done to his back when he hit the tree.

Her stomach flopped as the memory of it flashed through her mind.

Shaking her head, she forced it from her thoughts and held a hand out, closing her eyes and calling forth healing magic to help reverse anything the potion was not able to fix. Her palm hovered over his body, and she moved it slowly from his head towards his legs and back again, a soft blue glow encasing him as she did so. After a few moments, she halted the flow of magic and sat back on her feet, praying to the Maker it was enough. Then, and only then, did she uncork another healing potion and down its contents herself, wincing again as the mixture slowly knitted the cracks in her ribs together once more.

[ ](https://captain-savvy.deviantart.com/art/Peace-Interrupted-Trade-661327620)

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As the evening steadily darkened, Verana moved him slowly and gently to where the horses were tethered in order to begin her quiet vigil. She gathered wood and lit a small campfire to keep them warm, fed and watered their steeds. Then, she took a bedroll from behind Grace’s saddle and eased Cullen onto it, removing the most restricting pieces of his armor to allow his body to relax more. She beat the dirt and picked the leaves off of his coat and vest, and then folded both neatly, beside which she lay each piece of Silverite plate, his helmet and shield, his gauntlets, and his sword, which she sheathed in its scabbard after cleaning the blade. She left him in his breeches, shirt, arming doublet, and boots, then draped a spare blanket over him to keep away the chill of the night.

She took off her own gauntlets and breastplate, laying them beside his armor, and then sat next to him, leaning against a tree with her knees up to watch over him. After a few moments, however, she had a better idea; scooting sideways, she wedged herself between him and the tree, nestling herself between the roots, then eased her leg under his head to serve as a pillow. With him propped against her upper thigh, she hoped he would be more comfortable than just lying flat. She curled her other leg under her and leaned her shoulder into the tree trunk, sighing as she settled in for what could be a long night.

As the hours crawled by, the bright moon climbing high overhead and the quiet of the night punctuated by the rhythmic sounds of insects and owls and the crackling of the fire, Verana thought about what happened – about the rift. It was her fault, she knew it was. The lake just happened to be near a weak spot in the Veil, and the presence of the Anchor, over the course of the hours they were there, eventually tore a hole in it; it was astonishingly easy to do. They were both lucky to be alive, and she felt extreme guilt for having put Cullen in such danger. Looking at her left hand, she wondered if the benefits it provided really countered the risks it posed. But then she thought of how it had saved their lives just as easily as it had put them at risk to begin with…

Glancing down at Cullen, she recalled his attack on her. It was an accident, of that she had no doubt. The demonic encounter must have made him have a severe flashback, and she knew he had seen something other than her for a moment, judging from the way his eyes had appeared when he had seized her by the throat. Instead of anger or resentment, she felt pity for him, and she hoped that, when he woke, he would not berate himself overmuch. Yet, knowing him, he probably would.

As she thought about all this, she let her eyes take in his features, and she noticed that years had slipped away once his face relaxed. She was glad to see the color had returned to his complexion, and to her relief, he seemed at utter peace as he slept. His breathing had deepened and slowed, now, steady and rhythmic. She carefully reached over him and rested her hand against his chest, feeling his heart beating stronger under her palm. He would be all right.

Realizing she had never before touched him without a glove on until now, she lifted her hand to gently stroke his blonde hair, letting her fingers rake through the silky strands. As she did so, her eyes fell on the scar on his upper lip, and she wondered how he received it…

Suddenly, his brow furrowed, his arm twitching as his head rolled from side to side.

“No…” the word was mumbled, sluggish, “No…not…again…” his whole body stiffened, “Ver….Verana…”

She leaned over him, her lips near his ear as she cupped his cheek with her hand, “It’s all right…I’m here...”

At that moment, his amber eyes popped open of a sudden, and his gaze latched onto hers with alarm before he relaxed, “Verana…”

“Shhh,” she planted a kiss on his forehead, between his brows, “It was just a dream.”

His eyes searched hers, and then they widened a little as the memories of what had occurred earlier in the evening gradually came back to him. “Oh, Maker,” he breathed, reaching up to touch her face, “I’m so sorry-”

“It’s all right, Cullen,” she shook her head, gently grasping his wrist, “It was an accident-”

“Please, forgive me,” he insisted, closing his eyes briefly, “I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” Verana whispered, resting her forehead against his, “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Oh, yes, there is,” he hissed, his anger and frustration at himself evident in his tone as he ran his fingers through the curtain of raven hair that brushed his cheek, “That there was enough of what happened at Kinloch left in my head to make me do that…to make me lay hands on you like that…”

“Cullen, you were tortured by demons…I wouldn’t expect that experience to be easily suppressed in their presence.”

“That’s no excuse!” he growled, looking away, his eyes filled with emotion. He swallowed hard and added, “The pain made it worse…the wounds. If I just hadn’t stopped taking the lyr-”

“ _No!_ ” she smacked his cheek, eliciting a look of surprise from him as he returned his attention to her now-stern countenance, her blue-violet stare just inches above his, “Don’t you _ever_ suggest that! And don’t you _dare_ start it again and throw away months of struggle, do you hear me?”

He was silent for a long time, but at last, he nodded. Closing his eyes again, he murmured, “It still gives me nightmares, you know. I was in the middle of one when you woke me.”

“I know,” she replied, “It’s my fault…the Veil in this area must have been weak, and just the Anchor being here made a hole wear through. If I hadn’t been here, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You couldn’t help it,” he answered, “It’s as much my fault as yours. I just wanted to get you away from that chaos for a while…let you have some peace.” He shook his head, “So much for that idea.”

She smiled slightly, “It did. It _was_ peaceful, before the attack. And it is now. I wouldn’t call it a failure.”

The bashful answering smile melted her heart, and she leaned forward to kiss him upside down. He answered it with tenderness before she broke it and squeezed his shoulder, “Rest. You need it.”

He smirked, “So do you.”

Verana chuckled, “I’ve stayed up through many a night before, Cullen. It won’t hurt me to do it again.”

His eyes narrowed, mischief glittering in his gaze, “I’m not going back to sleep if you don’t.”

She raised one dark brow and crossed her arms, “Well, Commander, it seems we are at an impasse.”

“Would it help if I added a ‘please’?”

She sighed as if in irritation, but she couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across her face, “Oh…all right. If you insist.”

Having won, he glanced to the horses, “Sentinel?”

The blood bay raised his head from his dozing position and flicked his ears Cullen’s way.

“Watch.”

The horse huffed in affirmation.

Verana shook her head with a smile and slipped from behind Cullen, making as if to stand up, “You have a bedroll too?”

“Actually, no. But…we can share this one.”

Her cheeks flushed, the humorous thought of some scout possibly catching them crossing her mind…but she acquiesced, knowing they were both fully clothed and she was still half-armored. It was only a few hours until dawn, anyway. Sighing, she scooted up beside him and lay on her side, facing away from him. He tossed half the blanket over her and curled an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and kissing the back of her head. She smiled again in contentment…and despite their being alone in the middle of nowhere, she felt safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by @Captain-Savvy!


End file.
